Brick By Brick
by mindfunk
Summary: After the war, rebuilding Hogwarts is a priority. Unfortunately none of the repairs will hold, as something is drawing the magic right out of the castle itself. Will Draco actually help save the day, or is he still the same brat he was before the war?


**Brick by Brick**

***

"Draco Malfoy, you are found guilty of the following crimes: membership in a terrorist organisation, namely the group called the Death Eaters; attempted murder; accessory to murder, multiple counts; use of two of the three Unforgivable curses on numerous occasions –"

"Is it necessary to read each and every count yet again?" Draco interrupted. His face was pale and he appeared to be shaking, but he still had the temerity to interrupt the Head of the Wizengamot as he stood alone in front of the august body, awaiting his sentence. Some in the crowd seemed shocked, but, Harry wasn't surprised.

"Oh, very well," said the elderly woman, seeming a bit put out. "We find you guilty on all counts."

At her words, a rush of sound filled the courtroom. She strained to be heard above it.

"However… I say, will you please come to order!" she said sharply, banging her gavel several times. When the noise had subsided, she continued.

"As I was saying, the members of the Wizengamot find you guilty on all counts, but we also believe there were mitigating circumstances."

From his seat in the second row, Harry had a perfect view when Draco's eyes, which had dropped to the floor after her proclamation of his guilt, snapped back up towards her.

"The writings and Pensieve memories of both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape portray a young man who had little choice in the path that was set before him. The testimony of Mr. Harry Potter in regards to some of your actions shows us that there is, perhaps, a different human being underneath the young Death Eater persona you were forced to adopt."

Draco stared at her, his face blank.

"As such," the Chief Witch continued, "we have decided to try a unique approach to your punishment. You are hereby sentenced to one year of labour at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the supervision of Headmaster Filius Flitwick and Deputy Headmistress Minverva McGonagall." Draco seemed dumbfounded. Behind him in the first row, his mother sobbed quietly into her handkerchief, supported by the family barrister.

"Both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress will have to agree to this, of course," she went on. "You will spend the time doing any task they assign to you as the school is rebuilt and prepared to welcome students once more. Once the year is over, we will reconvene and decide what further punishment or rehabilitation is appropriate.

That is all," she finished, sinking back into her seat and shuffling her papers into some semblance of order.

Harry didn't know if he should be pleased or not. Sure, he didn't want Malfoy to go to Azkaban, well, not on most days, but he didn't want him at Hogwarts, either. Surely he should suffer more for everything he'd done?

The courtroom emptied around him, the spectators abuzz with the surprising sentence handed down, and Harry remained seated, watching Draco and Narcissa hold each other. Catching Harry's eye through her tears, Narcissa mouthed, "Thank you." Harry nodded in response, and rose to leave the courtroom.

Maybe the Malfoys had suffered enough already. Maybe they all had.

***

"Malfoy is a stupid git," Ron pronounced, his mouth full of the Hogwarts house elves' Shepherd's pie.

"Ronald, honestly!" Hermione scolded, handing him a napkin.

Sometimes he felt like he'd never left school, Harry mused. Here he was at Hogwarts, eating at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall with his two best friends. It was like they were still twelve, particularly with Ron displaying his glorious lack of table manners and Hermione mothering him about it.

After wiping his mouth with the proffered napkin, Ron leaned over and kissed Hermione on the cheek. She stopped scolding him long enough to blush lightly, and they made eyes at each other for a few moments.

'Not twelve anymore after all, then,' Harry thought to himself, unable to hide the grin his friends' antics brought to his face.

They were at Hogwarts as part of the volunteer team working to rebuild and repair the old castle. The occupation of the Death Eaters had seen some serious damage done to some areas and classrooms, and the final battle had added a great deal of structural damage on top of that. Hogwarts was habitable, in most areas, but there was not a section of the castle that didn't need some amount of repair and refurbishing. It would take a long time, possibly many months, to restore the castle to its former splendour.

"Why'd they have to send him here?" Ron continued with his earlier complaints, drawing Harry from his thoughts. "Why not Azkaban with the other Death Eaters?"

"Do you really think he deserved to go there, after he saved us twice, and after his mum lied to Voldemort for me?" Harry asked. They'd had this discussion repeatedly in the two weeks since Malfoy's verdict was handed down.

"Well, maybe not. Still, here?" Ron complained, shoveling in another forkful. "The site of most of his crimes?"

"I think it's good to give some of the lesser offenders something positive to do now, something productive for society," Hermione said, taking a much smaller bite off her own plate.

"Yeah, how many of them are sentenced to this community service option now?" Harry asked her.

"Let me think," she said, sipping her pumpkin juice. "There's Malfoy, who is sentenced here, and his mother, who is working at St. Mungo's. Actually, a lot of the Death Eater wives are working there."

"Not like they have much else to do, what with their husbands being in prison," Ron muttered.

Lucius Malfoy, along with his compatriots, had been summarily sent to Azkaban. Their trials would be starting soon, but it was considered unlikely that they would receive the same kind of leniency as their wives and children.

"Goyle is assisting Mr. Lovegood at the Quibbler, learning the printing trade," she went on. "I don't think there are any others we knew from school that actually took the Mark."

"Thank goodness for that," Ron said, looking a little green as he set down his fork. "What happened with Crabbe was bad enough."

They all sat silently for a moment, thinking about their frantic escape from the fiendfyre. Harry could almost smell the thousands of hidden objects burning; feel Malfoy's arms around his waist as they flew for their lives.

"I wonder if the Room is still there?" mused Harry.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "It was contained, obviously, or the fire would have gutted the entire castle."

"I think I'm going to go find out," said Harry, suddenly feeling like he had to know.

Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously as he rose from the bench.

"Are you sure you want to go back there, mate?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, I just… I have to see what's there," Harry tried to explain.

Hermione was obviously concerned. "Do you want us to go with you?"

"No, I'll be fine. I don't think either of you want to go back there, anyway," he answered, knowing that both of his friends had suffered at least a few nightmares about their narrow escape. He had, too, but suddenly he was consumed with the need to know if the Room was all right.

Hermione looked as if she was going to get up and escort him there anyway, but Ron seemed to notice her agitation. He put an arm around her and said, "Find us when you're done, then."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Ron had become so prescient since their adventure began last year, and it was amazing to watch sometimes. How the gormless idiot he'd known all those years had turned into such a perceptive man, Harry had no idea. He liked it, though. It had certainly made a difference, both in finding and destroying the Horcruxes and in wooing Hermione.

He looked on with a smile for a few seconds more as his friends became lost in one another, before turning and leaving the Great Hall and making his way towards the seventh floor corridor.

***

As Harry walked through the castle, he could see that the damage was extensive. Some corridors were blocked off entirely because of structural instability, and in others portions of the walls were spell scarred and crumbling. Suits of armor were still scattered somewhere in the castle, having been animated by Professor McGonagall during the Battle of Hogwarts, and their plinths remained empty. That gave the halls a forlorn, abandoned look. Entire classrooms were in ruins, and Harry could only imagine how much work it would take to restore Hogwarts to her former glory and ready her for new students.

As he arrived at the tapestry of the dancing trolls, Harry was surprised to see the door to the Room was open. He stepped into the doorway and looked around.

Draco Malfoy stood just inside the Room. His back was to Harry, and he seemed to be staring at the charred walls of the empty, cavernous room.

"Where did all the stuff go?" Harry asked, his mouth moving before he realised that he intended to speak.

Draco started and spun around to face Harry. He had tear tracks on his face, and his eyes were haunted.

"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily, swiping at his damp eyes with his sleeve.

"I wanted to see what happened to the room, after the fire," he said neutrally, shrugging. Stepping further into the room and looking around, he asked again, "What happened to everything that was in here?"

"Fiendfyre consumes everything in its path," Draco replied. He seemed a little less angry, but wary.

"Why didn't it burn the whole castle?" asked Harry, reaching out to touch the soot stained stone wall.

"I don't know. Maybe it wasn't strong enough to overcome the protective magics of Hogwarts."

"I don't know either," said Harry, ceasing his examination of the walls and turning back to his former schoolmate.

They studied each other for a long moment. Neither seemed to want to break the silence.

Finally, Draco spoke.

"Thank you for testifying on my behalf," he said quietly. There was no trace of the old arrogance in his voice.

Again, Harry shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I only told the truth."

"You didn't have to do it."

"Yeah, I did," Harry replied, annoyed. "You weren't a Death Eater of your own volition. In every vision I saw, you only did what you were forced to in order to save yourself and your parents."

"You said that I tried to help you, and that my mother saved your life," Draco said, cocking his head to the side and studying Harry like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"You did try to help me," Harry said. "You pretended you didn't recognise me, or Ron or Hermione. I know you had to know it was us, after seeing us every day for six years. You could have confirmed our identities for them and it would have been all over for us, but you didn't."

He paused to take a breath, and think about what he wanted to say next.

"Besides, your mother did save my life. She lied to Voldemort and told him I was dead. She might have done it to save you, but she still saved me, and risked her own life in the process."

"I don't know why she took such a risk," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Because she loves you," Harry said. "She didn't care about herself, or Voldemort, or anything else. She just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Draco flushed with embarrassment, and looked away.

"That's not something to be ashamed of," Harry said sharply. "My mother died to save me. I wouldn't be surprised if your mother was willing to do the same for you."

"I know that," Draco snapped back. "I just wish…" he trailed off, looking wistful.

"You wish what?" Harry asked, curious.

The silence stretched out between them, and Harry thought he'd never get an answer.

"I wish my family were back together," he finally said, sighing.

"Your father deserves Azkaban," Harry said flatly.

"I know that! Don't you think I know that?" Draco cried, gesturing widely with his arms and stalking a few feet away.

"I know he did some terrible things, made some bad decisions," Draco said more calmly, his back turned toward Harry. "He's still my father, through, and I wish he and Mother and I could be together in the Manor, as we were before the Dark Lord returned."

He said the last part bitterly, as if the words tasted like ashes on his tongue.

"There are a lot of people who wish they could have things back the way they were before he returned," said Harry. "There are so many people who lost part of their families, like the Weasleys, or Teddy Lupin…"

"Or the Crabbes," said Draco, turning back to face Harry again.

"Yes, them too," Harry agreed.

"His mother didn't even get a body to bury," Draco said softly, looking around the empty room where his friend had died.

"I'm sorry he died," Harry said honestly.

"Me too," Draco replied. "He didn't have to die. He never had a chance to be anything but a lackey, a junior Death Eater in training.

"A lot of that was my fault," he added, bitterness and regret tingeing his voice.

"Maybe it was," said Harry noncommittally. "Then again, maybe it wasn't. You didn't have much more of a choice than he did. That's why I spoke for you at your trial, and why I spoke for Goyle at his."

Draco smiled crookedly. "Are you running a one man Death Eater rehabilitation program now?"

"Maybe I am," snorted Harry, smiling in return.

It was an odd moment, one that seemed as though it should have been uncomfortable, but wasn't.

"C'mon," Harry said at last. "Let's go down to the Great Hall. It has to be time for the Minister and the Headmaster to talk about how we're going to get Hogwarts back up and running again."

The two headed out of the Room, with Draco taking one look back before he gently closed the door behind them.

***

"Thank you all for being here this afternoon," said the magically-enhanced voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic.

It carried over the heads of the assembled crowd. There had been many volunteers to help rebuild Hogwarts, so the Ministry and the new Headmaster had been able to choose those people best suited to the various tasks that needed to be done. Getting Hogwarts repaired and reopened was considered a priority, so the Ministry had arranged for the employed volunteers to be given leave with pay, and all volunteers were receiving free room and board at the castle for the duration of their services.

It sounded like a logistical nightmare, and Harry was glad he had no part in arranging it all. He just wanted to be here, at the only real home he'd ever known, and be part of bringing Hogwarts back to life again.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us," Kingsley went on, "but I know we are up to the task. We have a good team, and if we all work together, Hogwarts will be back to normal as soon as possible."

He went on to outline the way the volunteers would be grouped, and who would head each individual team. Harry let his mind wander, as it always had during Professor Dumbledore's start of term and end of term feasts.

Ah, Professor Dumbledore. It would be impossible for Harry to ever separate Hogwarts and Dumbledore in his mind or in his heart. What would he think of what had happened since their talk in the intangible train station? His portrait was well pleased with how things had turned out. Harry smiled to himself, thinking about the talks they'd had since the day of the battle. He didn't want to waste his life away in front of a portrait, as Dumbledore himself had warned about the Mirror of Erised, but it was comforting to talk to the representation of his mentor from time to time. The portrait had the time to tell him stories about his parents, and the Marauders, in a way his live counterpart had not.

Harry was a bit shocked to find out from oil and canvas Dumbledore that his godfather and Remus had been lovers. When Harry had sputtered and stammered, the portrait had smiled serenely and popped another painted sherbet lemon into his mouth, saying mildly, "I can't imagine how you overlooked such an obvious thing."

After thinking about it, and getting a lecture from Hermione about bisexuality and how human sexuality was actually a continuum, Harry had come to accept it. There really had been a lot of clues that he'd been too naïve to pick up on, like the joint Christmas gifts, and the way they'd always sat just a little too close, constantly brushing against each other's shoulder or thigh. Someday he'd have to tell Teddy about his father, and how he'd spent much of his life in love with another man, but thankfully that kind of talk was years in the future. Teddy himself couldn't talk at all just yet, although he had two teeth and a smile that lit up a whole room. He was gregarious, like his mother, and he seemed to represent the best of both his parents. Harry loved spending time with him at Andromeda's, and intended to be to Teddy what he would have wanted Sirius to be to him.

Harry was suddenly jarred from his thoughts by Ginny squeezing herself in next to him on the bench.

"Hi, Harry," she whispered, smiling brilliantly.

"Hi," he whispered back, before being shushed by Hermione.

"So," Kingsley was finishing his speech, "Headmaster Flitwick and Professor McGonagall will have your team assignments in the morning. Good night, everyone."

The assembled crowd began to exit the Hall, and Harry's group joined them.

"Wonder what we'll be doing?" Ron mused, yawning widely.

"Don't you ever listen, Ronald?" Hermione said waspishly, as they made the long climb up to their assigned quarters in the Gryffindor dormitories.

The castle had dormitory space for hundreds of singles, and could provide quarters for many of the married couples as well. A few families or individuals had opted to stay in Hogsmeade or Floo in each day (Molly and Arthur Weasley being among the latter group), but most of the rebuilding volunteers had opted to stay in the castle itself while work was underway.

"What? I was listening," he said, defensively.

Hermione humphed and rolled her eyes. "You were too busy eating the last of the ginger biscuits to listen to anything."

Their gentle bickering lasted all the way to the common room.

"How are they picking teams, anyway?" Harry asked, flopping on his favorite sofa in front of the fire. Ginny sat on the floor and leaned against the sofa near his feet.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione began, perching in a wingback chair. "Weren't you listening either?"

"Nope," Harry grinned unashamedly. "I was daydreaming."

"They let the Sorting Hat do it," Ginny answered, before Hermione could begin another lecture.

"Really? Why'd they do that?" asked Ron from his spot on the floor near the hearth.

"Well, if you'd been paying attention to the Minister," Hermione said, taking on her Professor McGonagall tone, "then you'd know that the Hat spoke to Headmaster Flitwck during a planning session and offered to organize the volunteers. It was quite historic, as the Hat has never just spoken up like that before."

Harry relaxed into the cushions and thought to himself that his was almost like being back in school. It made him almost able to forget about the endless weeks in the forest with nothing to eat, or about walking to his death, clutching the snitch and wishing he could feel his parents' arms around him.

Almost.

Then, Dennis Creevey came in, and Harry's happy warmth was gone, as if he'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. Seeing Dennis without Colin was just too much. He'd known it would be hard to be back at Hogwarts, but he'd been able to handle his feelings up to this point. He'd avoided the corridor where Fred died, and artfully dodged being caught alone with anyone other than his friends, so he'd been able to fool himself into thinking it wasn't so bad.

Dennis was a reminder of what they'd lost, who they'd lost, and it tore the wounds right back open.

"I'm going to bed," he said dully. Shrugging off their questions, Harry went up to his old bed and lay down, not bothering to take off his shoes or change into his pajamas.

He was asleep in minutes.

***

When the groups were announced the next morning, Harry was unsurprised to be paired with Draco Malfoy.

"Who can you be so calm about this?" Ron raged. "It's the ferret!"

"That's all over, Ron," Harry said wearily. "Yes, I know what he did as a Death Eater, and I know he was a prick for six years before that, but it just doesn't matter anymore."

Ron sputtered, unable to give voice to his astonishment.

"That's very mature of you, Harry," Hermione said primly. The she arched an eyebrow at him. "You're not going to get him alone and then hex him, are you?"

"Of course not!" Harry insisted indignantly.

Ron gave him a surreptitious thumbs up as Hermione turned away.

Shaking his head, Harry turned back to his breakfast. Across the room, he noticed Draco sitting alone. There was a conspicuous space around him, even at the sparsely populated former Slytherin table.

"They probably put me with him because nobody else would have him," Harry mused aloud.

"I'm afraid you're quite right about that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall from behind him. He turned toward her, and he handed him a scroll.

"These are the areas in which you and Mr. Malfoy will begin your work after breakfast," she said, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Her years weighed heavily upon her, which had been the reason she had refused the position of Headmistress. Still, she was sharp as a tack, and she could tell that Ron was less than pleased with his best friend being paired with Malfoy.

"Partners were chosen based on strengths, both magically and personally," she said to Ron. "Potter has shown a willingness to look past the…" she paused, looking for the right word, "… differences… he's had with others in the past, and we felt that not only did he and Malfoy complement each other magically, but that he would treat Malfoy fairly and decently."

Hermione looked smug. "Of course he will, Professor. Harry understands that we need to come together in order to rebuild the Wizarding world even stronger than before."

"Doesn't mean you can't get in just one good shot, for old time's sake," Ron muttered, giving a quick grin and following his girlfriend and the Professor away from the table.

'This is going to be a long ordeal,' Harry thought to himself as he looked over again at the solitary Malfoy.

***

After breakfast, the two young men were working in the dungeons, near the potions classroom. Harry had tried to make polite conversation, but all his efforts had been met with monosyllabic answers, and he was getting frustrated.

"Look, Malfoy," he snapped, lowering his wand from where he'd been moving stones back into the wall. "I'm making an effort here. The least you can do is meet me halfway."

Draco finally looked at Harry, his eyes flashing.

"Excuse me, Saint Potter. How could I possibly refuse your gracious overtures, especially when I am but a lowly mortal who pales in comparison to your goodness?"

"Stuff it," said Harry, embarrassed. "It's not like that."

"Oh, really? Then why are you suddenly my best friend, when for six years you hated my guts?"

"I'm not!" Harry protested. He ran his hand through his hair wearily and leaned against the wall. "I just thought we put most of this rubbish behind us when we talked yesterday."

"I'm not someone new just because we had a conversation that didn't end in hexes," Draco said dryly, leaning against the wall a few meters down.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

"I'm not trying to pretend we don't have a past," Harry finally began. "I just don't want to continue all the old stuff that almost led to our downfall. We can't have divisions like we used to. If we want to rebuild the Wizarding world better than it was, stronger, then we have to really come together as a community."

"You sound like such a gobshite." Draco snorted, crossing his arms.

"Well, I mean it," Harry replied defensively. "I actually learned a lot from Snape. If I'd trusted him, given him a chance, then my life would have been a lot easier. His would have, too, and maybe some things would have been different."

"Were you really there when he died?" Malfoy asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I was."

"What was it like?"

"What do you mean?" Harry said, stung. "It was horrible."

"I don't mean it that way," Draco said quickly, clearly chagrined. "I meant, did he suffer?" He winced at Harry's expression. "Of course he suffered, he was bitten in the neck by a giant snake," he muttered, almost to himself. Tentatively he went on. "Did he say anything?"

"You mean, did he have any messages?" Harry said, finally catching on. Draco nodded in response. "No, he didn't. I'm sorry."

"I should have trusted him, too," Draco said sadly. "He really was trying to look after me."

The silence stretched out until it became uncomfortable.

"Well, let's get this hall and his classroom back up to snuff. He would be appalled at the condition they're in right now," Draco said, taking his wand in hand and turning back to the stones they were replacing.

They continued to work mostly in silence for the rest of the afternoon, but it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as it had been before.

***

They continued working in the same way for a few months, alternating between fighting and brief moments of connection. It didn't help that the work they were doing was taking much longer than it should. Each morning, the repairs from the day before were at least partially undone. It was causing a great deal of frustration for the volunteers, and Hermione was among the people pulled from their original duties to research what might be causing the problems.

"The reopening might be delayed indefinitely if we can't figure out what's causing the problem," Hermione fretted, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. She was surrounded by books, as usual, taking up almost an entire table in the library.

'No, we really need to have this done as soon as we can. If Hogwarts doesn't reopen, Voldemort wins after all," Harry said vehemently.

"I understand, Harry," she said patiently, glancing up from her book. "It's just that we don't know what's causing the repairs to come undone, and if we can't find the cause, we can't fix it."

"We'll get it sorted, mate," reassured Ron, leaning back in his chair.

"I hope so," said Harry gloomily.

His mood had worsened roughly in proportion to the amount of work that was undone each day.

"So, what's going on with you and Ginny, anyway? Ron asked with his usual subtlety and tact. Ignoring Hermione's shocked "Ronald!" and her smack on his arm, he continued. "Are you getting back together or not?"

He had always assumed that he and Ginny would get back together once the danger was over. Well, he'd not actually given it much thought since the actual battle itself, to be honest, but he'd thought of her during their endless trek through the woods, while they lived in a tent and searched for Horcruxes. That had to mean something, right? Besides, he was happy when he spent those few weeks with her at the end of his sixth year. Getting back with her should make him happy again, or at least it would stand to reason.

She certainly made it obvious she was open to reconciliation. She was always there, hovering on the periphery of whatever he was doing. She would sit near him at meals, and coincidentally show up wherever he was spending his down time. It reminded him of when she had her big crush on him, actually.

He didn't really know why he hadn't taken advantage of the opening and resumed their relationship. Well, that's not true. He knew why, but he just had a bit of trouble admitting it to himself.

On the night he'd just about convinced himself to talk to her about getting back together, he'd gone to the prefects' bath to have a soak and think about how to approach her. Ever since his fourth year and the egg clue, he'd felt like he did his best thinking in the bath. Upon arriving, he'd said the password and gone in, only to realize it was already occupied.

Charlie Weasley was there already – and he wasn't alone. He had a friend visiting from the dragon preserve, and the two of them were getting very friendly indeed right there on the floor of the prefect's bath.

Harry had stood there with his mouth agape, watching the sight before him. He didn't mean to stare, but he'd never seen anything like it before. Living in a dormitory with four other boys for six years had shown him his share of naked men, but it hadn't prepared him for what it would look like when two men were having sex.

Or the effect it would have on him.

He had no idea how long he stood there watching. It could have been a few seconds, or it could have been years. Eventually he must have made some sort of noise, because they finally noticed he was there.

"Give us a 'mo, all right, Harry?" Charlie asked with a cheeky grin. His partner made a whispered comment, and Charlie laughed. "Maybe a little longer than that, actually," he said, with a small groan, as his partner moved beneath him

Harry stammered an apology and fled.

Once he was back in the safety of his bed, he desperately needed to wank. The problem was that he couldn't get the images he'd seen out of his mind. Every time he tried to picture Ginny instead, the image morphed into Charlie. Pale skin with freckles turned into slightly bronzed skin over fluid muscles, and fiery, long red hair turned into thick, short auburn curls. He tried imagining other girls, but they kept turning into other men, too. When golden blonde Hannah Abbott turned into silver blond Draco Malfoy, he gave up and let his imagination go wild.

It was the best wank of his life.

Since then, he hadn't known what to do. He found himself looking at other men in a way he didn't think he had before. Of course he'd looked sometimes, or had a passing thought, but everyone did that occasionally. Right?

It wasn't until he caught himself staring at Malfoy's arse that he realised he might have a problem.

He'd tried to distance himself from Ginny since then, not wanting to be unfair to her. Unfortunately, that just made her try even harder to get closer to him.

"Hello, Harry? Are you still with us?"

Ron's voice snapped him back into reality. He and Hermione were looking at him strangely, obviously waiting for a response.

"Um, I don't know?"

"It's all right if you don't, you know," Ron said casually. Hermione and Harry both stared at him in shock.

"What?" he said, shrugging. "I want you to be happy. If you can be happy with her, then that's what I want for you. If you won't, then I don't want it."

"You won't be mad if I don't get back with her?" Harry asked, confused.

"She's my sister and I love her, but that hero worship thing she had going was stupid," Ron said bluntly. "I know she liked you a lot, but I never did know for sure if it was you or the idea of you she liked best."

"Ronald! That was so insightful!" Hermione beamed at her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well, I have my moments," he said, grinning.

"Seriously, Harry," he said turning back to his best friend, "If you still like her and want to give it another go, I'll support you. Merlin knows Mum would like nothing more than for you to marry into the family and become a true Weasley instead of just an adopted one, and since Ginny is your only option for that…" Harry squirmed in his seat a little at that, thinking about Charlie, "… I'd like it too, but you're already just as much my brother as the rest of them in every way that matters. I don't need to pair you off with my sister in order to have you as part of the family."

"Won't your mum be disappointed if we don't get back together?" Harry asked.

"She'll get over it. She loves you regardless, so I wouldn't worry about it." Ron shrugged. "She just wants you to be happy, and so do I. Maybe that will be with Ginny, and maybe not. Either way, I'm not fussed."

"You really are a good friend, Ron," Harry said, hardly believing his good fortune.

"Oh, you boys!" Hermione sobbed, throwing her arms around Ron, and then flying around the table to hug Harry as well. The she excused herself to go splash some water on her face.

"Emotional range of a teaspoon, eh?" said Ron smugly.

The two laughed so loud that Madam Pince threatened to kick them out of the library.

***

The next morning, Harry found himself impatiently waiting for his partner at their assigned area. Annoyed when Malfoy was late, Harry fetched the Maurader's Map and located Malfoy in a part of the castle they'd not worked on before. It was actually an area Harry had never had the time to explore thoroughly, but he thought it was the old music corridor.

Stowing the map inside his robe, he made his way there, intending to chew out Malfoy and get him back to work. As he drew closer, he heard the sounds of a piano, and it grew louder the closer he came to where Malfoy should be. Almost forgetting about Malfoy, he followed the music, finally stopping in the doorway of what had obviously been a music room at one time.

Harry had loved music classes in school as a child. Harry had hoped for piano lessons himself, but of course the Dursleys would never pay for that. Dudley never had much interest in music or musical instruments, so the music room was once place where he could find a safe haven away from Harry hunting and bullying. The teacher, Mrs. Ondra, had been kind to Harry, and she would sometimes let him spend lunch or recess in her room, listening to her play piano or recordings of symphony orchestras. She had a love of Beethoven, and he'd spent what felt like hours listening to her play pieces like 'Moonlight Sonata' and 'Hammerklavier', or bits and pieces from his symphonies. He loved the spirit of 'Ode to Joy' and it made his heart sing, but the somber 'Moonlight Sonata' was his favorite.

That's the piece Draco was playing. Harry stood in the doorway, in awe that his former rival could evoke such feelings in him. Draco was playing with an intensity of feeling and a depth of emotion that Harry hadn't realised he possessed. It was spellbinding, even though there was no actual magic involved.

Caught up in the music, he drew closer and closer to the piano, and the man playing it. Draco was so intent on his playing that he didn't notice until Harry touched him on the shoulder. He started, overturning the bench as he whirled around and drew his wand.

Harry jumped back, drawing his own wand reflexively. They stood like that for a moment, before Harry lowered his wand.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's all right," Draco replied a beat later, lowering his wand, too. They contemplated each other in silence again, before Harry finally spoke what was on his mind.

"That was… amazing," he said, feeling that his words were inadequate. Malfoy looked like he didn't believe him, so he continued hastily. "I mean it. That's my favorite piece, and you played it very well."

"Your favorite?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side. I didn't know you knew anything beyond the Weird Sisters and that sort of thing."

"Oh, no," Harry said, "I once had a teacher who loved Beethoven, and to this day I appreciate his work."

"What others do you like?" Draco asked, obviously skeptical.

"'Hammerklavier' is really good, too. I'd say it's my second favorite, and I love the 'Ode to Joy' and everything from the Ninth Symphony, but 'Moonlight Sonata' is just so dark and brooding."

Draco snorted at this, and Harry ignored him. "The way it builds, and keeps that tempo…" he realised he was babbling, and stopped talking with a blush.

"Hmm," said Draco, evaluating. He turned back to the piano, righting the bench and sitting back down. He started playing again, the same song from the beginning. Transfixed, Harry sank down on the bench beside him. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.

He could smell Draco's cologne, or maybe it was his soap. It was a spicy, clean scent. Hell, maybe it was just Malfoy. It wasn't like he'd been close enough to smell him much before. Even when working together, they kept well beyond the auspices of appropriate personal space, taking care not to brush arms or touch unnecessarily.

Now though, that smell permeated his senses, and along with the music that made him feel so strongly, it was a heady combination. He found himself leaning closer to Draco over the course of the song, a hair's breadth from touching him as the final notes hung in the air. He turned toward him and opened his eyes. Draco was looking back at him, inches away. Harry started to lean in…

…and promptly started so badly he fell off the bench. Had he really been about to kiss Malfoy? Malfoy!?

Scrambling to his feet, he managed to choke out, "I need the loo. I'll meet you in the dungeons in a few minutes, yeah?" before fleeing the room. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Draco's face, afraid to see what might lie there.

***

After a suitable amount of time had passed, during which Harry had berated himself thoroughly and had a long talk with himself in the mirror, he reluctantly forced himself to leave the safety of the gents' and go back to the dungeons. As he came around the corner, he heard Draco swearing viciously.

"What's wrong?" he said, concern overriding his embarrassment at his earlier actions.

"Part of this niche came down on me again as I was reaching toward the back wall to fix the last bit where we left off yesterday," Draco said angrily, clutching his arm. It appeared to be bleeding slightly. He also had a graze along his forehead, and his robes were torn.

"Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" Harry asked.

"No, I've a potion in my room. It's closer," Draco said, and started down the hall toward the Slytherin Common Room door. Halfway down the hall, he paused. "Are you coming? I don't want you here alone if that wall collapses even more. The repairs are falling apart even faster now, and I don't think it's a good idea for either of us to be working alone."

Harry had to agree. Reluctantly, he trailed Malfoy to the Slytherin entrance.

Glancing at Harry with a smirk, Draco said clearly, "Harry Potter is a git."

Snorting, Harry followed him into the Common Room and down a side hall. As they passed the other rooms, he noticed that they appeared to be empty.

"Who else is staying down here?" he asked.

"Jut a few people. There aren't many Slytherins involved in the rebuilding, and nobody else is willing to stay in the serpent's den," he said wryly. "There's no one else in my wing at all."

Harry couldn't decide if the idea of Draco all alone in the dorms was rather sad, or rather hot. He was trying to talk himself into the former.

When they reached Draco's room, he immediately crossed to his bed and began digging one-handed in the trunk at the footboard. He quickly located a small leather case, holding it up to show Harry.

"This is what I need. I'll be back in a minute," Draco said. He disappeared into the loo, closing the door behind himself.

Harry gazed idly around the room. He'd been in the Slytherin Common Room before, during his second year polyjuice adventure with Ron, but he'd never been in the dorms. This room was set up for only two students and was decorated sumptuously in shades of green and silver, but it otherwise looked similar to the Gryffindor boys' dormitory Harry had occupied for six years. He was a bit peeved that the Slytherins had their own bathroom instead of sharing a communal loo down the hall, but he supposed that's what money and privilege could buy.

He walked over to the bedside table, noting the book lying there.

"The Witch of Blackbird Pond," he read aloud. It seemed vaguely familiar. He picked it up and was paging through it when Draco came out of the bathroom.

"Leave that alone!" Malfoy snapped, striding toward him.

"I remember this book," Harry said, ignoring him. "I read it when I was younger. I found it in my cousin's room, after he was supposed to read it for school and threw it in the bin instead. It caught my eye because it was about a witch," he chuckled. "I think it was really more of a girls' book, but I liked Kit."

Draco was flushing as he snatched the book out of Harry's hands. He turned to his bookshelf, and stuffed it randomly on a shelf, knocking down several other books and sending an avalanche of things tumbling to the floor.

"Bollocks!" he swore, kneeling to pick up his things. Harry knelt to help him, and Draco swatted his hands away.

"I don't need your help, Potter!"

Harry simultaneously became aware of two things: firstly, that Draco was shirtless. He'd apparently shed his damaged shirt in the bathroom and hadn't put another one on yet. There was a bountiful expanse of warm, pale skin displayed in front of him, and Harry wouldn't have been able to tear his eyes away if it hadn't been for the second thing: Draco apparently had a gay porn collection that he kept on his bookshelf, in amongst the books, and a good portion of it was now lying on the floor. There were clippings from magazines, as well as intact copies of both wizarding and muggle publications. Dozens of naked men stared up at Harry, some of them frozen in place, others winking and leering as they stroked themselves or continued fucking their partners.

He stared, transfixed, as Draco hurriedly gathered up his collection.

"Just shut up, Potter," he snarled, scooping up papers and stuffing them back onto the shelf haphazardly. "Don't say a word."

He glanced up at Harry, who was still gobsmacked, and paused.

"Potter, are… are you all right?" he asked curiously.

Harry's only reply was a strangled sound. He didn't know where to look. His trousers were suddenly uncomfortably tight, and he prayed Draco would not notice.

His prayers were not answered.

Draco sat back on his heels, a shocked expression on his face. "You're gay, Potter," he said, shocked.

"I, I, uh…" Harry stammered. His mouth wasn't quite working properly, and he couldn't feel his hands. Everything was a bit spinney, and he thought he might be hyperventilating.

"The Chosen One is as queer as a silver galleon," Draco said, almost to himself.

"You're one to talk," Harry said defensively, finally regaining some control of his tongue.

Draco blushed again, seeming to remember the porn he was holding and hurriedly shoving the pictures out of sight on the shelf.

Harry sat in silence while Draco fussily stashed away the rest of his spilled porn.

When he finished, the silence began to feel awkward. Awkwardness turned to tension, and eventually, the tension became unbearable.

"Well, then," said Draco finally, rising to his feet and brushing off the non-existent dirt on the knees of his trousers.

Harry rose as well, and leaned against the bedpost, jamming his hands into his pockets. They were determinedly not looking at one another.

"Let's just pretend this never happened, shall we? I say a good round of Obliviate all around, and Bob's your uncle," Draco said.

Harry was saved from answering by the sound of Professor McGonagall's magically amplified voice ringing through the room.

"Will all volunteers please return to the Great Hall immediately? I repeat, all persons in the castle proceed to the Great Hall at once. You will be advised of the situation once we are all assembled," she said.

That didn't sound good. Harry and Draco looked at each other for a moment before Draco turned toward his wardrobe to fetch a clean shirt. He dressed quickly, and the two made their way to the first floor in silence.

***

Everyone gathered in the Great Hall as instructed. There was a current of uneasiness permeating the crowd, partially because a number of them were sporting injuries from incidents like that which Draco had experienced earlier that day. It seemed as if the problem with the repairs not holding was worsening.

"All right, people. Please quiet down," said Headmaster Flitwick, standing on the large chair at the center of the head table. He was accompanied by various staff members and Ministry officials, and they all looked grim. He waited for the assembled crowd to settle itself and quiet down before continuing.

"The situation here at Hogwarts is getting more serious," he said without preamble. "Repairs are getting harder to make, and they're failing more severely. Additionally, the magic sustaining other functions in the castle have started to fail as well. The main staircase is now fixed in place, for example." He paused to let the slight buzz of conversation his words generated die down before continuing.

"There have been increasing reports of injuries from structural instability and unexpected magical failures, and the Ministry is very concerned for your safety. It is very possible that we may cease the rebuilding efforts until the cause of the magical failures is found."

There was a rush of protest at those words, and he held up his hands to placate the crowd.

"I know you are all completely dedicated to restoring Hogwarts to her full glory, both as the cornerstone of our community and in order to train up the next generation of witches and wizards. However, it may be best for you to return to your lives and your jobs until this problem is solved."

"Do you have any idea why the repairs aren't holding?" called a voice from the crowd.

"The Ministry and the Hogwarts staff have been working diligently to figure this out," he answered, his face tired. "We don't have any answers yet. We hope that once we find out why the magic here is failing, we will be able to fix the problem and get back on track with the restoration."

"What should we do, Headmaster?" asked Hermione.

"Take the rest of today off. Relax, spend time with your families, take advantage of the nice weather to play Quidditch," this evoked a laugh from the crowd, who all knew of the Headmaster's love of the sport. "We'll continue working on the solution, and we'll keep you updated."

"I have to get back to the library," Hermione moaned, shouldering her heavy bag. She barely spared a breath for goodbye before she was gone.

"This doesn't sound like something with an easy answer," said Harry to Ron. Draco had tagged along and was leaning against the wall silently a few feet away.

"They all seem pretty rattled," agreed Ron. "Hermione is on it, though, and she's never found a problem she couldn't research to death. It will be all right in the end."

"It has to be related to the Death Eaters," Draco interrupted.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "Do you know something?"

"No, I don't, but it has to be related. It can't be a coincidence that the Dark Lord had control of Hogwarts for a year, and now the magic here is affected," he said quietly, looking Harry in the face.

"Malfoy has a point," Ron conceded.

"We'll have to talk to Hermione, see what she's uncovered already," Harry said. "Draco, what kinds of things was he doing during that time? What information do you have?"

"I don't know," Draco replied. "I know he was collecting books from the library here and at the Manor, and he was researching something. He was very interested in the wards on the Manor, and how they were self-powered. He was intent on deciphering how the layers of spells over the generations had meshed together. I thought maybe he was trying to come up with new warding for his personal properties, or for his…" he lowered his voice to a whisper before saying the word, "Horcruxes."

"You knew about those?" Ron asked, stunned. Harry was just as floored.

"He punished my father severely for losing one to you. After that, I had a passing familiarity with the concept and the importance of certain items," Draco said dryly.

"Can you get the books he was hoarding?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "I'll write to mother and ask for those things to be sent here."

He looked past Harry and gave a brief nod to someone else. "It's time for my weekly probation meeting. I'll let you know what I find out," he said, and walked toward McGonagall, who was waiting for him. Together, the two left the hall.

"Maybe he'll turn something up for us. He's still a git, but maybe he has some uses," Ron said.

"Yeah, maybe he does," said Harry, his mind unhelpfully supplying all sorts of uses for the other man that had nothing to do with the problem they were discussing.

***

The following weeks were a whirlwind for Harry. He was splitting his time between his volunteer duties and helping Hermione research the castle's problem, and he was dead tired. He spent his days working with Malfoy, an experience that was rife with difficulties. Their awkward discovery about each other had not been forgotten, although neither of them had mentioned it again. They had gone back to some semblance of the working relationship they'd had before, but Harry was now unable to concentrate on moving rubble or shoring up structures. Not that it mattered, probably, since their repair spells weren't holding for more than a day anymore. It was almost like magic was being siphoned from the castle itself, and it had started to affect things like the moving staircases and the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. Still, they had to keep the castle from crumbling to its foundations until they solved the problem, so they all carried on.

It was harder work now for Harry, because instead of paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing, he was constantly watching his partner. He had become accustomed to Draco's different expressions, how he looked when he was concentrating or when he was pleased with the work they'd done. He found himself developing a frightening understanding of what made the other man tick, and he came to realize that he was gaining the ability to see behind the mask. It didn't matter what Draco was projecting, Harry could tell from the subtle cues and body language what Draco actually meant or felt. Harry wasn't used to being able to understand anyone like that, and it puzzled him that he could do it now, with Malfoy.

They'd been working on the second floor, near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Harry could tell Draco was getting tired. He had that little line in between his eyebrows he got when he was getting a headache…

Yeah, it was time to break for the night. He needed some distance before he lost his mind.

"Do you want to stop for now? I reckon it's been a good day," Harry said, wiping his brow with his sleeve. One of the side effects of whatever was wrong with the castle was that it took a lot more energy than usual to cast as much magic as they'd been doing, and it felt as if they'd been doing manual labor all day.

"Yeah, I think it's time," Draco answered, lowering his wand. He conjured a glass of water and drank deeply. Harry watched a droplet slide down his chin and drip onto his robe covered chest, and mentally scolded himself for staring. This really was getting ridiculous.

"Let's do the joint reinforcing spell on this whole area, and then we'll call it a day," Harry said, stepping up to inspect their handiwork. It looked good, but without the multicaster reinforcing spell (developed by Hermione and one of the Unspeakables, of course) their work would definitely be lost by morning.

"All right, let's do it," said Draco, vanishing his glass and stepping up next to Harry. "On three."

"One, two, three!" he said, raising his wand.

They both intoned "_Conmitto Saxum Instruo!_" in unison. Golden light spilled from their wands, joined together, and washed over the newly repaired stone of the castle wall.

"That ought to do it," said Harry, satisfied. Draco nodded, and they turned to leave.

A massive cracking sound reverberated through the hallway, and the stones began to shake.

"What the…?" was all Harry got out before the floor went out from under them. He and Draco instinctively grabbed for each other as they fell, pelted by falling pieces of floor and wall and who knows what else. They tumbled end over end at one point, or so it seemed, and Harry was no longer sure which way was up. The noise was incredible, and he was sure that more than just their corridor has collapsed. He clung to Draco as they fell for what seemed like hours, but what really must have been seconds.

They hit something solid and angled, with Harry on the bottom, and it knocked the breath out of him. They rolled and slid down the incline, finally coming to rest against a big pile of rubble.

"_Protego_!" he heard Draco wheeze, and looked upwards to see the shield catching the bulk of the debris that would have rained down upon them. After about half a minute, it covered the entire surface of the shield. When it finally stopped falling, Draco directed it to settle down gently in an area several meters away. Between that and the debris that had hit the angled wall and piled up there, they could not see the ceiling, or tell how far they'd fallen.

They lay there side by side in the gloom, panting heavily.

"You all right?" Harry was finally able to ask.

"Yeah, I think so. You?" Draco replied.

"I'm not sure. I think I may have broken a rib. It hurts like hell," he said, sitting up and beginning to test his limbs.

"Ouch," Draco said, grabbing the back of his head as he sat up. His hand came away with blood on it.

"Let me see," Harry said, lighting his wand and holding it up with one hand. He gently moved the hair away from the injury, and was relieved to see that it was just a bump.

"It's scraped, and you have a decent goose egg, but I think it will be all right," he pronounced. He winced as he lowered his arm.

"Let's see those ribs," Draco said, gently prodding Harry's sides. He made a soothing noise when Harry groaned in pain, and then opened his shirt to get a better look.

"I can't tell if they're broken or just bruised," he said. "I can cast a spell I learned for Quidditch injuries to keep them from moving until we get to the hospital wing."

Harry nodded his assent, and Draco murmured the spell. Harry felt like his chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. It was a bit uncomfortable, but the pain lessened.

"Thanks," he said.

They continued taking a physical inventory, and decided that beyond those two injuries and a lot of bumps and bruises, they were remarkably well, considering that a good amount of castle had fallen on them.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco said. "It happened just after we cast the stabilising spell."

"We did it right. We had to have done, since we never had any problems before," Harry puzzled.

"I wonder if the problem with the castle's magic has advanced to the point where stronger spells cast upon it can create a backlash," Draco said thoughtfully.

"We have to get out of here and tell Hermione and the other researchers what happened, before this happens to anyone else," said Harry.

Draco rose to his feet, and held out a hand for Harry to help him up.

They looked around the cramped corridor they were in, and quickly came to the conclusion that there was only one possible way out.

"This rubble isn't recent. It looks like an old cave in of some kind," Harry said, raising his wand so he could see better in the gloom.

"We must be down below the first level of dungeons," Draco said. "There aren't any areas of the main dungeon that are blocked like that, and this doesn't look familiar at all."

"It does look a bit familiar to me," Harry said uncertainly. "Let's see if we can get out this way. If it's blocked somewhere down there, too, we can come back here to wait."

Staggering a bit from their ordeal, they proceeded down the abandoned corridor. They both started as ancient torches along the wall flamed to life, giving dim light to their path.

"Must be a spell," Harry said, unnerved.

"Well spotted," Draco snarked, but it lacked his usual bite.

They stayed close together as they traveled down the silent old corridor for what seemed like half a mile or so. It twisted and turned so that they could never see very far ahead, especially with the dim lighting.

Finally, they came around a bend and saw a metal door in front of them. When they came closer, Harry recognised the entwined serpents with the emerald eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath and stopped in his tracks.

"What is it?" asked Draco, raising his wand and trying to get a better look.

"This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said flatly.

They stood together looking at the door, reluctant to proceed.

"When I was twelve," Draco said conversationally," I would have given anything to be down here. Now I'd rather go back and wait to be rescued."

He turned to go back down the corridor the way they'd come, and Harry grabbed his arm.

"Don't be silly. The basilisk is dead," Harry said, Draco's cowardice giving him a reason to find his own Gryffindor courage.

He looked at the carved serpents, and hissed "Open."

Besides him, Draco shivered. Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Parseltongue is really creepy," Draco said.

"I've been told it's disturbingly hot," Harry joked.

"Not once you've have the Dark Lord living in your house with that giant snake of his," Draco said darkly. "That pretty much killed any Parseltongue fetish I might have had after our duel back in second year."

"Well, that would make sense," Harry agreed. Then he registered what Draco had said. "Wait, you had a fetish?"

"Can we please just get on with this?" Draco said haughtily, striding forward through the now open doors. Harry filed that bit of information away for later contemplation and followed him.

It looked the same, if a little smaller. He supposed that was the difference between his eighteen–year–old size and his twelve-year-old size.

Their footsteps echoed in the giant chamber as they walked down the rows of columns.

"Is that…?" Draco asked, as they drew closer to the corpse of the basilisk.

"Yeah, it is. I'm surprised it's so well preserved," said Harry, circling the body and examining the head.

"Good Lord. Look at the size of it. Did you really kill it yourself?" It was the first time Harry had heard any trace of awe in Draco's voice.

"Yeah. Well," he amended," I had some help from Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. He pecked out its eyes and brought me the Sorting Hat, which gave me the Sword of Gryffindor."

"Sort of like with Longbottom," Draco asked, referring to the events when Harry had been playing dead during the final confrontation with Voldemort.

"Yeah, just like that," Harry answered.

They stood together for a few minutes, gazing in awe at the remains of the giant beast.

"Where are the fangs?" asked Draco, noticing their absence. "Don't basilisks have fangs?"

"One broke off in my arm as I killed it," Harry said, gesturing to the place where the fang had pierced his arm. "Ron and Hermione came down here right before the Battle of Hogwarts and took the others to destroy the last of the Horcruxes."

"How did they get in without you?" Draco asked, confused.

"Ron managed to mimic the word 'open' in Parseltongue," said Harry, and Draco laughed incredulously. "Yeah, I know it seems unbelievable, but he pulled it off without even telling me he was going to do it."

"Amazing," said Draco, with a grudging respect.

Tearing themselves away from the basilisk corpse, they looked around the Chamber.

"If you ever repeat this I'll deny it," Draco said, studying the giant statue of his house's founder that dominated that end of the room," but Slytherin was a bit full of himself."

Harry laughed out loud at that. "The basilisk came out of the statue's mouth. Tom Riddle called it by saying, 'Speak to me, oh Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four,' or something pretentious like that," he snorted. "It was like something out of the Evil Overlord Handbook section on evil speeches."

"I loathe clichés," said Draco, trying to hide a tired grin.

He looked around the Chamber. "How do we get out?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "There has to be a way out through the mouth, because the basilisk hunted in the forest."

Draco seemed nonplussed. "We have to climb up there and trek through an ancient basilisk nest?" he asked.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and then wincing when his ribs twinged.

"No," said Draco with a sigh.

They climbed up the face of the statue and cautiously entered the tunnel that was the statues mouth. They lit their wands, and then they could see that the tunnel proceeded for at least a hundred meters before it widened into some sort of room. They expected that to be the basilisk's nest, and they were completely taken by surprise when they entered the new chamber.

It was round, perhaps fifty meters in diameter. There was a second archway exactly opposite the archway they stood in, which presumably led to the passage to the forest. Torches flared to life as they entered, illuminating the walls and the floor.

There was a large circle on the center of the floor, painted in some dark substance, with a five pointed star contained within it. As they came closer, they could see that the circle was made up of small, painstakingly drawn runes repeated over and over. Red pillar candles burned at each point of the star, giving off a spicy, vaguely familiar scent.

"What's that smell?" Harry asked in a hushed voice.

"Frankincense, probably mixed with dragon's blood," Draco answered, just as quietly. He glanced at Harry, and seeing his puzzled look, explained,"Certain… darker rituals call for candles made of or anointed with those things."

"So this is a ritual of some kind?" Harry asked. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"Yes." Draco looked unsettled. "Some of the old families have rituals that have been passed down through the generations. They're mostly harmless, like to guarantee the first child will be male, or to strengthen the wards on a family property."

"Wards?" Harry asked, remembering something Draco had said. "Like the wards on your manor that Voldemort was so interested in?"

"Yeah, just like that," said Draco grimly.

Harry noticed a table set over to one side of the room, under one of the torches. It was covered in books.

"Do any of these look familiar?" he asked Draco.

Draco joined him at the table. He swiftly thumbed through the books, opening a few and examining their contents.

Looking up, he nodded at Harry. "Some of these are definitely from my father's collection."

"What's this, in the margin of this one?" Harry asked, holding out a book toward Draco.

Draco moved closer, almost touching Harry, but he didn't seem to notice. Harry did, though, and cursed his hormones for having extremely inappropriate timing.

"It's just Latin, Harry. Honestly, didn't you ever study it?" he said, sounding scarily like Hermione for a moment. He pointed to a string of words written under the circled paragraph that talked about perpetual power for permanent spells.

"_Haurio, castellanus, vis, anima, vita, edomo_, and _amitto_" he read.

"What's that mean?" Harry asked, knowing from the look on Draco's face that it couldn't be good.

"Literally, it means drain castle power soul life conquer death," he said, his face pale in the torchlight.

"Shite," said Harry, looking over at the symbols painted on the floor.

"Indeed," said Draco succinctly. He began gathering up the books, shrinking them and placing them in his pockets. "We need to take these back to Granger and the research team. This has to be what's draining the castle's magic. "

"Obviously," said Harry, getting closer to examine the runes making up the circle. "Why would Voldemort do this?"

"Did he know you were hunting his Horcruxes?" asked Draco, still sorting and shrinking books, his back to Harry.

"Yeah, he did. He knew we'd taken them, and he was worried," answered Harry, still examining the circle.

"He was probably going to make more Horcruxes, and this was going to be a new way of protecting them. Nobody would have access to this area except for you and the Dark Lord. Well, and Weasley, too, but who would have imagined that turn of events? It probably seemed like a foolproof plan." He was almost done shrinking books.

"How did it get activated then, if he didn't have a chance to actually make another Horcrux?" asked Harry, walking around to the other side of the circle and squatting with a wince to examine the runes delicately drawn there.

"I don't know. I'm sure the Unspeakables can sort it out. Let's get all this back to them so they can end the spell," he said, shrinking the last of the books and turning back to Harry.

"Why do we need to wait for them? If this is a ritual, if we just disrupt the circle or put out the candles, it should end the spell, right?" he said reaching out with one hand for the nearest candle.

Draco's shout of "No, don't!" was too late. Harry broke the plane of the circle with his hand as he pinched out the candle flame with his thumb and forefinger, and all of the siphoned energy was released at once.

Straight at him.

It felt like being in the center of a whirlwind. He could hear Draco screaming, "Harry!" and then everything went black.

***

Harry could smell the familiar antiseptic odor of the Hospital Wing before he even registered that he was awake. The murmur of voices near him stopped suddenly as he let out a small groan.

"Harry! Are you awake?" he heard Hermione say, as her familiar warm hand took his.

"Welcome back, Harry," said Ron from his other side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry managed to open his eyes, finally, and Ron helped him get his glasses on. He squinted a bit at the brightness, and Hermione used her wand to turn down the flame on the oil lamp on his bedside table.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes.

"Like I was run over by a herd of hippogriffs," he said, his voice gravelly. Ron helped him sit up a bit on his pillows, and Hermione helped him drink a bit of water.

Once his throat was less parched, he asked, "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" asked Ron.

"The corridor collapsed," he answered slowly, the details slowly trickling in. "We were trying to find a way out, and we ended up in the Chamber of Secrets. We were going to go out through the forest, and instead we walked into the antechamber with the ritual set up. We found the circle, and the books. Draco translated the Latin…" he suddenly sat up straight in bed, or tried to.

"Draco! How is he? Is he all right?" Harry said, gasping in pain at the sudden movement.

"Shush, Harry, he's going to be fine," Hermione soothed, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "He's in the next bed, actually. We helped Madam Pomfrey slip him a potion to make him sleep."

She indicated the bed to Harry's left, where he could see for himself that Draco was sound asleep. His mouth was open slightly, and he looked very young despite the obvious signs of fatigue and stress that showed on his face, even during sleep.

"He hasn't left your bedside since he brought you in," said Ron, actual respect in his voice.

"Was he hurt?" asked Harry, still concerned but warm inside at the proof that Draco cared about him.

"Yeah, he was pretty banged up. He'd carried you from the forest all the way up to the school," Ron said.

"He had some injuries, both from your fall and from the release of magic when you broke the ritual, but Madam Pomfrey healed him entirely by the second day," Hermione reassured Harry.

"The second day?" Harry asked, surprised. "How long has it been?"

"Five days. Well, five and a half, considering it's night now," said Ron. He looked a bit rough around the edges, too. Harry suddenly had a vision of his two friends sitting vigil by his bedside, and he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry to put you through all that," he said softly.

"S'all right, mate, we're used to it," said Ron cheerfully. Hermione reached across the bed and cuffed him on the head.

"Ouch! Well, it's true, Hermione. It's not a patented Harry Potter Adventure without the stay in the hospital wing afterward."

She rolled her eyes at him, and Harry couldn't help but grin. He really did love his friends.

"Don't give it another thought, Harry," Hermione said, patting his hand. "We're just glad you're okay."

"Is the spell broken, at least?" he asked her.

"Yes, it is!" she answered, her eyes sparking at the opportunity to share new knowledge.

"You were right that breaking the circle or otherwise disrupting the ritual would end the spell. I just wish you'd have waited for us to find a way to do it safely," she couldn't help but admonish him.

"I didn't know," he said, chagrined. "I thought it would help."

"Well, rushing in where fools fear to tread is kind of your thing," she teased, squeezing his hand.

"I thought I had a saving people thing?" he teased back.

"That too," she laughed.

"You did save the day, though," said Ron. "The castle is back to normal. The repairs are going great, and we're on track to have Hogwarts reopened by Halloween."

"That's great news!" Harry said, cheered.

The three friends talked for another half an hour or so before Madame Pomfrey shooed Ron and Hermione away for the night so Harry could rest.

He woke again some time later, confused. He looked around to see what had woken him, and realized Draco was sitting on the edge of his own bed, watching him. He reached for his glasses and winced, the movement being too much for him. Draco got up and handed his glasses to him, helping him settle them on his face and then perching on the edge of Harry's bed.

"So you lived, again," Draco finally said, breaking the silence.

"I guess," Harry said, unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Draco leaned in, grabbing the front of Harry's hospital issue pyjamas roughly. He thrust his face only inches from Harry's, and said,"Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Then he was kissing Harry, hard and fast. It lacked finesse, or romance. Harry's chest hurt where Draco was leaning on his broken ribs, and his glasses were pressing into his cheek. When Draco thrust his tongue into Harry's mouth, a bit of saliva trickled down their chins. Their teeth bumped at least once.

None of that mattered. It was perfect.

***

Nineteen Years Later

"Come on, come on, we're going to miss the train!" said the young blond boy. He was jogging along, pushing a trolley loaded with trunks and a tawny owl in a cage.

"Cepheus, the train doesn't leave for another twenty minutes," his father said, amused.

"Tell me again why we had to stay at the Leaky Cauldron last night and then deal with this madhouse in order to get him to Hogwarts, when we already live at the castle?" said his other father.

"Because he should have the experience of taking the train, just like all the other First Years," his husband explained patiently.

"Yes, because that went so well for us," Draco snarked.

"Hey, I made friends on the train." Harry laughed. "You just weren't one of them."

Their son took a corner at full speed, and almost tipped his trolley over. The owl squawked in protest.

"Cepheus, slow down! You're going to hurt Jason," Draco admonished. His son immediately slowed down to a respectable pace, but his impatience showed on his face.

"We're going to be late, and all the compartments will be full! I want to get a good seat," he pleaded.

"It's all right, we're there already," Harry said placating both his husband and his son.

They made their way onto Platform 9 ¾, immersing themselves in the throng of people on the platform.

"You're here!" said Rose Weasley, throwing herself at Cepheus in a hug reminiscent of her mother's embraces of Harry at the same age. She had the same bushy hair as Hermione, but had Ron's Weasley colouring.

"Of course I am," he said calmly, as if he hadn't been frantic just a moment before.

Both his fathers chuckled at his behavior, as Ron and Hermione caught up with their daughter.

"How are you two? Sad about the little bird leaving the nest?" teased Ron, clapping Harry on the back and shaking hands with Draco.

"Hardly," drawled Draco. "He'll just be underfoot again in a few hours."

"That's what you get for taking a professorship," admonished Hermione with a smile, as Harry bent to kiss her cheek.

"Yeah, it's your own fault. You could have left Hogwarts after a year, but I think that once you realised that you'd have the power of the Inquisitorial Squad full time if you were a teacher, they had you hooked," Ron sniped good naturedly. "How many points did you dock from Gryffindor last year, anyway?"

The years had taken the sting out of their past disagreements, and although they rarely missed an opportunity to harass each other, he and Draco had developed a warm relationship over time.

"If all your nieces and nephews would stop trying to live up to the legend of the Weasley twins, not to mention the misdeeds of Uncles Harry and Ron," Draco said, lightly elbowing his husband in the side, "then Gryffindor would have kept hundreds more points, and I would have a lot more free time in the evenings instead of supervising detentions."

"You love giving detentions and you know it," chided Harry.

"I can give you one later, if you'd like," Draco murmured in his ear. "I'll even play piano for you first."

He smiled in satisfaction as his husband's eyes glazed over. Even after all this time, Harry still found it sexy when Draco played piano. It caused quite a problem when Draco had let the late Headmaster talk him into accompanying the newly reformed Hogwarts choir one term.

"Well, Harry could fix it if he'd just keep up with you in giving points and detentions," Ron griped good naturedly, unaware of Harry's distraction. "You've been a professor as long as Draco, so why don't you just give back the points he takes?"

"Because I think the whole thing is silly," Harry smiled, rejoining the conversation as he slipped his arm around Draco's waist. "Kids should earn or lose points on their own merit, not because we teachers are having a pissing contest in order to put our own house in the lead for points."

"You won't have a House this year, Harry. Will you miss it?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sure I will," he said. "I've really enjoyed being Head of Gryffindor and looking after those kids, but now I'll be looking after kids from all the houses, even more so than before."

"I always thought Granger would be the one to come back as a Professor, and become the youngest Headmistress ever," Draco said. "Harry surprised everyone by coming back."

"You were there," Harry said simply, squeezing his husband gently.

Their son rolled his eyes at his parents, used to their open affection.

"We need to get on the train now," he said.

The two sets of parents kissed their child goodbye, and helped each aboard with their luggage and owl.

"Don't forget to send Jason to your grandparents after the sorting," reminded Draco. "All four of them will be eagerly waiting for news."

"Let Rose put her letter to Molly and Arthur in with yours," said Harry. "That way Mephistopheles can go straight to the Grangers'."

After another flurry of goodbyes, the train was finally pulling out. They waved to the children until they were out of sight.

"We need to go claim Hugo from my parents." Hermione sighed. "He's probably worn them out by now." They parted after making plans to meet for dinner the following weekend in Hogsmeade.

"It's just you and me now, Draco," said Harry, leaning his head on his husband's shoulder as they walked through the station, heading back toward the Leaky Cauldron and its Floo access.

Draco snorted. "Yes, you, me, dozens of staff, about a thousand students and twice as many parents. Just a quiet, private little life we have."

They walked out into the autumn sunshine, hand in hand.

All was well.

***


End file.
